A Case Of Muchness
by LadyBastet92
Summary: The Alice rarely has feelings of self-doubt. But when she does, it's a good thing Tarrant is there to remind her how much muchness she really has. Lil' one-shot, Alice/Tarrant.


**A/N: Just a shot lil' one-shot I wrote. This is my first time experimenting with Hatter-narrative, and it was really fun. Tell me what you think!**

"Do you think I'm too odd, Hatter?"

Tarrant didn't concern himself with this question at first. Since returning to Underland, Alice had mastered the art of nonsensical conversation, often asking the Hatter ridiculous questions, and him answering them in the same playful manner. They had both come to enjoy their game of charades that didn't mean anything at all. So when _the_ Alice – Champion Alice, Slayer-Of-The-Jabberwocky Alice - asked him this insecure and therefore oddly out-of-character question, he naturally played along.

"I don't see why not, luv," he said cheerfully, snipping away at the sporadic patterns that was coming together to form a new hat. "The right to be odd is one that I hold very dear, so let's not wait for oddness itself to slip away before…."

When his eyes finally met hers, he could see very well that this question was not nonsensical at all. Her face was long and weary, which wasn't complimenting to the girl at all – that's not to say she wasn't still beautiful, for Tarrant couldn't imagine an Alice _without _a beautiful face, even if it was dreadfully long – and her chocolate colored eyes did not have as much cheer or bright curiosity in them as they normally did. Instead, they only held worry – and wasn't it usually the other way around with those two, the Hatter the one with instability and unsureness in his ever-changing eyes? Tarrant couldn't stand to see the Alice, _his_ Alice, in such a downtrodden state.

His face turned soft, his normally much-too-wide grin now small but sincere. He put down his hatting supplies and walked over to stand by Alice, who was staring at her reflection in the mirror with distaste (the looking-glass would've been greatly offended, if it hadn't known the true subject of her revulsion – mirrors are strange with their ability to know). Tarrant, stretching out his bandaged and calloused hands, gently turned Alice around so she could look at no one else but him.

"Yes, Alice," he said simply, "I do believe you're much too odd."

Alice looked downwards, her cheeks flushed red. Before he could allow his madness to do something extremely foolish in front of her (as it had done so many times in the past at seeing her hurt of upset, and he didn't _relish_ in the thought of Alice seeing him as a dangerous madman), Tarrant cupped her petite head in his rough hands – oh, how perfectly wonderful her pale skin felt at his touch! He wondered momentarily if she had thought the very same thing that evening under the Red Queen's tyranny, when he had suffered a serious bout of madness in her presence (much to his abashment in retrospect) – and continued:

"In the very same way that you are much too brave. And much too kind. And much too compassionate, caring and all-around wonderful – especially to a lowly Mad Hatter like me." Alice opened her mouth to protest, but Tarrant pressed his figure to her lips before she had the chance. He then smoothly ran two of his figures through a lock of her yellow hair with such reverence and caution, you would've thought it was really made of gold – although, any little thing that was a part of Alice, from the hair at the top of her head down to her littlest toe, was worth more than all the treasures the richest Jabberwocky could possibly hoard in the eyes of the Hatter.

"And furthermore, you are much too beautiful," he continued, his hand sliding down under her chin and grasping it between his thumb and forefinger ever so slightly, as if it was as frail as a cloud that was ready to slip through his fingers and disappear if he held it too tightly (oh dear – Alice did have a habit of doing that, didn't she?). Tilting her head upwards so that she looked directly into his now honey-dipped lavender eyes (a color that seemed to be appearing more and more frequently since Alice had returned, according to his dear but teasing friends – not that he minded, for lavender was a lovely color, and much more suited to Alice's pallet then his usual florescent green eyes, at least in his opinion), he leaned in closer, his face no more than an inch away from hers.

Delicately, adoringly, and with all the love and affection a human heart could muster, he whispered into her ear: "And you have much, _much_ too much muchness."

Tarrant could feel a wet tear hit his cheek when they kissed. But when they pulled away, there was nothing but a heart-felt smile upon his sweetheart's face, and her eyes were all but glistening with joy. With his thumb, he wiped the crystalline tear away - and then, feeling unsatisfied with his work, gently laid a kiss upon her cheek where the tear had just fallen, making sure no watery scars were left behind to tarnish such a perfectly priceless face. Alice laughed (never a sound was as sweet to his ears, more grand and beautiful then all the bells in Underland combined) –

"You would think with all that muchness bottled up in a person, I would explode!" She wrapped her arms around Tarrant's neck (how delightfully cool and refreshing they felt to the Hatter, whose skin always seemed to be burning with some madness or another) and rested her head on his chest, her head askew upwards so their eyes could meet and never break apart. Tarrant placed his lips upon her forehead (would he never tire of bestowing his love on her in such ways? He very much doubted it) and wrapped his arms around her tilted frame.

"But you're not just _any_ person," he murmured tenderly, "You're _the_ Alice." He grinned a grin that could give Chessur a good run for his money. "You're _my_ Alice." He savored the taste of those words on his lips, only second as sweet to the feeling of Alice's lips pressed against them.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," she said fondly, tilting her head back just so and kissing him once again. And as she ran her fingers through his flaming orange hair as he pecked fond kisses upon her nectar-sweet neck, Tarrant thought how lucky he was to have found just-the-right-Alice to love – and that he was blessed enough to have her love him in return.


End file.
